A Tourist In The Waking World
by rainbowrites
Summary: She didn't say 'I understand'. She didn't say 'it's hard to be different'. She didn't say 'this world doesn't like people like us so we need to create our own'. Missing scene from Dance With Somebody, where Kurt goes to Emma to ask for couples therapy


Ms. Pillsbury?"

Emma looked up. Kurt hovered outside her door, very carefully toeing the boundary between inside and out. She frowned slightly. It was warm, for the time of year. But Kurt was wearing at least three different layers. She wondered if Blaine was okay. She waved him in and contented herself with the fact that at least he wasn't wearing the thick sweaters he'd taken to burrowing into after Blaine was slushied.

She waited until he'd sat down and carefully arranged all his limbs. "How can I help you Kurt?"

"Blaine and I need couples therapy."

Emma blinked. She'd thought that if there was one couple who _didn't _need therapy in that group it'd be them. Even Mike and Tina had come in a few times, apparently as some sort of therapy compromise since she wasn't asian. "Okay, well you can schedule a time with me and come back with Blaine for couples therapy. Is there anything you'd like to talk to me about before hand?" She smiled as encouragingly as she could, even though Kurt wasn't looking at her.

"I need you to help me."

"That's what I'm here for."

A muscle worked in Kurt's jaw. She could see it clearly from his profile, he was staring out the window. "I want to make sure I get everything right. I don't-" He closed his eyes for a second and dragged in a deep, shuddery breath "I don't want to mess up."

"Kurt, there isn't a right or wrong way to go about therapy–"

"Well then tips. Give me tips." Kurt all but snapped. He whipped out a notebook and pen. He'd bedazzled COUPLES COUNSELING SCRIPT across it in green rhinestones.

"Alright then." She tried not to stare at the bright green SCRIPT glaring up at her like a shouted plea. "One important phrase in therapy is 'I hear you and that's something I'm willing to work on.' An 'I' statement means you're speaking only for yourself, about your own feelings. It makes the other person feel less attacked."

Kurt glared down at the notebook as he wrote. "'I hear you and that's something I'm willing to work on."

"You should be sure to actively listen while Blaine's talking to you."

"Actively... listen..." Kurt's tongue poked out from his teeth as he scribbled.

"Actively listening means that you really try to understand what he's telling you, so you basically repeat what he's said to show you were listening."

"Blaine and I repeat each other all the time. It has to be different here or what's the point?"

"Well, why don't you tell him 'I am actively listening?' And really, the important thing is to somehow let him know that you're trying to understand his feelings."

Kurt looked pinched, his shoulders hunched up defensively. He glared at his notebook. "I do try to understand his feelings."

"Kurt?" She started to wait for him to look up, and then remembered. "Did he talk to you about his feelings before?"

Kurt rubbed his fingers over the rhinestones; the tiny frantic motions reminded her of when she was trying to clean something very small. "He said I was cheating. And to tell him if I was unhappy."

She passed him a lace handkerchief. He rubbed the delicate lacing absentmindedly as he shone the cover. "And are you unhappy Kurt?"

"Well, _now _I am! He's being completely ridiculous! He was doing the exact same thing with Sebastian." He scrubbed so hard one of the rhinestones popped off. He looked utterly betrayed by his creation, his eyes wide with shock.

"And how did it make you feel when Blaine was doing it?" She decided not to ask if what he was doing really was the same. People all had very different definitions of cheating. She carefully didn't look at the flowers Will had brought her that morning.

Kurt finally managed to drag his eyes up to her. He stared at her face, then back at the notebook, eyes darting back and forth several times in a dizzying circle before he managed to speak. She wondered what he saw there, and tried to make her smile as soft as possible.

"It felt awful." His voice was small, his body hunched up to match it.

She ached for him. "You can always come to me Kurt, if you want to talk about things." She spoke quickly before he could insist he was fine. "Or even if you don't want to talk."

Kurt looked around the room consideringly, eyes lingering on her pamphlets and the caches of Windex she kept in strategic places throughout her office.

"You could just come in and sit here while I work on my pamphlets." She didn't say _I understand_. She didn't say _it's hard to be different_. She didn't say _this world doesn't like people like us so we need to create our own_.

Kurt finally nodded stiffly. "I need someplace to plan my outfits anyway. Dad doesn't like it when I leave fabric swatches out."

Emma twitched before she could stop herself.

"I keep them organized." He said, examining his nails instead of her face. "He just doesn't like the reminder of how much I spend on clothes. He's strictly of the $5 bargain bin at Target." Kurt shuddered, and for a moment she could have honestly believed he had no bigger problems than trying to convince his father to wear anything non-flannel. She waved off the handkerchief he tried to give back. He was good. Far too good for someone his age.

"That sounds like fun." She smiled so hard her cheeks hurt, and was rewarded with a little quirk of Kurt's lips. "Is there anything else you want to talk about before you go?" She nudged her office appointment book toward him to give him something to look at.

"Does it get easier?" Kurt asked softly. He carefully inked his and Blaine's names in the book in sparkly purple, avoiding her gaze.

She had to bite her lip to keep from blurting out "It gets better!" or frantically searching for a pamphlet that would explain everything. Maybe it would be called _Being a Fairy When You're Not In A Fairytale_. Or _We're Only Different On The Inside!_ Or maybe _Living Outside The Box and Getting Wet_. She stuck a pin in that thought. It could have a picture of cat outside a cardboard box, getting rained on.

"Sometimes." She said slowly, looking down at her hands. "There are good days, and then there are..." She swallowed, and very consciously did not reach for her wet wipes, "bad days too. But it gets easier when you've got people who love you." She twisted her engagement ring on her finger to center it, the polished diamond winking up at her. The stone was small, but it was completely flawless. "People who don't – don't _understand _but love you even when they don't get it. Who help you be the person you were always meant to be."

She looked up, and Kurt was staring out her window. His lower lips trembled, but otherwise he could have been carved from stone.

"Oh, er, but I mean when you get older it can be easier to be in a relationship too! I mean, not because you're older but because you're more experienced. Not that experience always comes with being older of course." She forcibly stopped herself, squeezing her eyes shut and taking a slow deep breath. "What I mean is, it gets easier as you grow. Both being yourself and being in a relationship."

"Well. McKinley has helped me grow." Emma heard the sharp _if nothing else_ hiding under his words. She pursed her lips. It was hard being in a school where half the teachers didn't care, and the other half didn't know how to care properly. Whether you were a student or faculty, it was hard. "It's dumped plenty of _fertilizer _on me."

Emma couldn't help herself, she flinched away from his words as if they could make her as dirty as the manure pile she'd nearly drowned in so long ago. She grabbed her wet wipes like a rosary, clenching them so hard her knuckles hurt.

"Oh, I'm." Kurt looked down at the notebook in his hands. Swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine, Kurt." Smiling hurt, she could feel how it was a little too wide, a little too manic. But he wasn't looking at her anyway so what did it matter? "Is – Is there anything else you want to talk about?"

"No." He stood up, dusting off his clothes as if any dirt could have gotten on him since he sat down. She swallowed, repeating her mantra of _guidance counselor guidance counselor guidance counselor._She was there to help them. As long as they were in that room, she came second.

He paused, once more hovering right at the boundary between her office and the outside world. "I'll come again. To coordinate my outfits." She nodded. He gazed off into the hall, then back at her, then back into the hall, a tiny crease between his eyebrows. Finally he said, looking at the his notebook instead of at her, "Thank you" and darted back into the hallways of McKinley. He should have been swallowed up by the crowds changing classes, but people parted before him and she watched him until he turned the corner and vanished.

xXx

Title taken from the Florence + The Machine song "Blinding"


End file.
